


Hotel Camelot

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, Fluid Sexuality, Hotels, M/M, Sexual Harassment, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is uni student who begins to work at the five-star Hotel Camelot, a place of beauty and luxury for the guests who stay there, and hard work and harassment for those who work there. At eighteen years old, he's unconfident, awkward and unsure of his sexuality, and has a bad feeling about the place from the beginning; especially about Arthur Pendragon, the arrogant heir of the Pendragon hotels, who takes it upon himself to make Merlin's life hell. But when a group of drunken guests cross the line with Merlin, Arthur will be forced to choose between protecting Merlin or the public image of Hotel Camelot, his father's legacy. Cliche plot is cliche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotel Camelot

It was only Merlin's second shift at Hotel Camelot, and he was beginning to wish he had never bothered applying. There were a limited amount of part-time jobs available to students in the small university town of Ealdor, and the five-star luxury Hotel Camelot was much sought after. 

He hadn't exactly been overjoyed at the prospect of getting a job there in the first place, resenting the idea of working like an anonymous robot for a bunch of wealthy golfers, executives and jet-setters in the sort of place he would never be able to afford himself. Not that he was an anarcho-socialist like his flatmate (and best mate since primary six), Will, who was also a militant Scots nationalist and when pissed at the pub would start mouthing off about all 'the fucking English toffs' in Ealdor. 

Merlin loved Will like a brother, but he wasn't much help on the money front, and when Merlin had been frantically trying to iron his cheap Primark suit before his interview and scorched it, and then was attempting to wet his hair down so he didn't look quite so mad, well – Will just leaned against the bathroom door and said:

'Merls, don't sweat it, mate, if this interviewer gets on you for your hair or whatever, just tell him to suck your prick and walk out of there cool as you please, cos I'm betting his jaw'll be on the floor.'

'And then I'll walk the two kilometers back into Ealdor in my dress shoes because I've got no money and no job. Cheers, mate.'

'Yeah, well, I think you'll find no money is better than no dignity!' Will yelled after him, and Merlin flashed him two fingers, before patting down his anorak to make sure he hadn't forgotten his keys again. 

+

Merlin was absolute rubbish with interviewing for anything, and it was really a blessing he hadn't gotten into Oxbridge because he'd have shat his pants in the interviews anyway. It didn't help that he was all flustered and sweaty from running about five minutes late because he'd gotten the sodding bus timetable mixed up. 

Luckily, the food and beverage department manager – 'Call me Gauis, laddie' – didn't seem too upset at him for wasting his time; instead he seemed amused. They shook hands in the lobby, Merlin trying not to feel utterly intimidated by the way everything in the room screamed 'posh' at him, attempting to emulate the feel of an English squire's hunting lodge-cum-manorhouse from the looks of the dark wood and deer heads mounted on the walls. Gaius directed him to his office, a much less pretentious-looking, cosy cubbyhole off the ground floor, stuffed with spare uniforms and hospitality awards lining the shelves. 

'I'm sorry to ask you this right off the bat, Merlin, but it's Camelot Ltd. Policy in terms of grooming standards,'

Merlin felt sheepish and felt his ears burn red, feeling even more out of place than before. 

'Are you willing to change your hair and remove your ear-piercings?'

Merlin gripped the armrests of his chair. He'd been expecting a comment, at least on his piercings if not his shaggy hair, but he'd been loathe to remove them, even if they lowered his chances of getting offered a position. His cartilage studs had been a sixteenth birthday present from his mam, who had taken him herself to the tattoo parlour, and he hadn't taken them out once in the three years since.

He cleared his throat. 'Yes, I am.'

Gaius smiled at him genially. 'Nothing personal you understand, I find the longer hair suits you, as do your earrings, but company policy on the matter is quite strictly conservative. You may find this hard to believe, Merlin, but at one point in the '70s I sported hair down to my shoulders.'

Merlin gaped at him, trying to imagine this buttoned-down old gent with long silver hair in '70s-style wings. It was too bizarre, but Gaius winked at him impishly, and he had to laugh. 

The rest of the interview went by quickly, and Merlin felt like he'd managed to avoid cocking it up spectacularly. Amazingly, Gaius seemed to like him, and offered him a work placement as a server, effective immediately. It was Merlin whose jaw came unhinged, pumping Gaius's hand so enthusiastically he winced. 

\+ 

His first shift at Hotel Camelot had been unremarkable, at least for the first few hours. It was hard work, and Merlin constantly felt like he was flailing all over the place, unsure of protocol, how to fold napkins elegantly or what on earth silver service was. Fortunately, he was paired with a lovely Afro-English girl named Gwen who had been working at Camelot for a year now, since she was a fresher herself. 

She was sweet and patient, and didn’t' laugh too much at Merlin's awkwardness, teasing him that he was as clumsy as 'a newborn fawn', and he couldn't help giggling and flushing as they set the tables and lit candles for a French dinner banquet. Watching her graceful figure, undiminished even in the unflattering red uniform vest and dumpy work shoes, her dark curls and cheeky smile, Merlin wondered if he could be attracted to her, and join the ranks of the boys who fancied her here. 

But he didn't think so – she was wonderful, and he felt safe and comfortable around her to be silly or stupid, but in a friend way, like Will, or a nurturing way like his mum. Merlin was unsure about the exact nature of his sexuality; in secondary at the few parties he went to and got drunk at, he'd hooked up with both boys and girls, kissing and indulging in heavy petting. He hadn't lost his virginity, at least in terms of penetration, but the urgency he'd felt towards sex at fifteen had died down some, now he didn't feel ashamed and desperate, wanking endlessly (ok, so he still wanked a lot) but now he felt more a detached curiosity towards fucking, like some kind of science experiment he'd take part in if he felt like it. 

Will had said, 'Come on, Merls, you can tell me if you're a poof,' and Merlin would have, if he had been sure. But he didn't feel sure about anything. 

+

But getting back to his first shift – well, it went as well as can be expected from someone who is petrified and exhausted. Merlin only managed to break two wine glasses, and only spilled sparkling water on a few guests, who took being doused with good grace when he apologised profusely. He didn't scalded anyone with hot tea or coffee, although his hands were shaky at that point, and he'd missed Gwen's subtle cues of when to serve dishes in a choreographed manner together with the others. But still, some of the tables had clapped when they'd finished plating dessert with a flourish, and Merlin was flushed with a sense of accomplishment that he probably didn't deserve. A portly middle-aged man somehow managed to slip a scrap of paper with a number and 'drinks?' scrawled across it into Merlin's vest pocket without him noticing. 

He discovered it later when fishing for his gloves as he and Gwen polished the masses of silverware in the kitchen. 

'So you can't have been an utter failure after all!' she crowed at him, as he scrunched up his nose at the thought of the lecherous fat old bugger. 

They were still laughing about it when a fair-haired man, in his early-to-mid-twenties, strode into the kitchens. He was very fit in a flinty-eyed, square-jawed sort of way, not a server but a guest from the looks of him, wearing a suit that probably cost more than an entire year of Merlin's uni accommodation. 

'Gwen? Gwen?' He called out in an imperious manner before catching sight of them perched behind one of the many counters. 'For god's sake, Gwen, answer your damn phone. I've been trying to reach you non-stop for hours. Morgana's been asking for you,' 

His eyes narrowed at Merlin, who frowned back at him. Entitled git, storming into places he had no right to be. Merlin knew his type well enough, from his thankfully brief time as a scholarship boy at Abbey Academy. 

'Who's this, then? One of Gaius's little charity projects?' he said with a sneer. God, what an arsehole. Merlin was dying to let him have it, but chances were he was a rich paying guest...

'You may have forgotten, Arthur, but I'm employed a this hotel, and I am still finishing up a nine-hour shift here,' said Gwen, coldly. 

Merlin was glad to see she wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, at least not to wankers like this Arthur Stick-up-my-arse. 

'It's Pendragon policy that staff have their mobiles and electronic devices turned off at all times when working. You wouldn't want me to break your rules, would you?'

Arthur looked sullen, but was silenced only briefly. 'My apologies, Gwen. I would never suggest you violate company code. I was just worried, that's all.' he said stiffly. 

Merlin was very confused about this whole interaction. Gwen and Arthur obviously had a history, maybe had gone out at some not-too-distant point, but he was feeling uncomfortable witnessing a personal argument, and also kind of peeved they had apparently forgotten his existence. 

'Ahem,' he cleared his throat not subtly at all, gaining both of their attention; Gwen's fretful face and Arthur's annoyed one intent on his. 

'Ah, hi Arthur. Don't think we've been properly introduced, but I didn't want to interrupt this little tete a tete here. I'll be happy to give you guys a moment, if it means getting out of polishing. Bye Gwen! See you Friday!' 

Merlin completed this with a dorky little wave, somehow almost stumbling over his feet on the way out. 

At the kitchen doors swung behind him, he heard arsehole-Arthur asking Gwen in a voice dripping with scorn, 'My god, where the hell do you find these little imbeciles? Actually, I'm not sure I want to know.'

Merlin felt a rising tide of embarrassment and anger sweeping over him from all of his mistakes and idiocies from earlier in the evening. Had all of the other servers, and guests noticed how odd he was? Had Gauis only taken him on from in an act of pity, or maybe a sick sense of humour? His insides gnawing with sudden insecurities, Merlin cursed his anxiety and began to walk quickly, almost running, through the darkened bowels of the massive hotel.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very rough draft but I needed to get it out of my system. I am trying to explore the fine line and power dynamics between teasing and flirting, and sexually-charged harassment - Arthur falls into the former category, if you were wondering!


End file.
